


Nice Manners for a Thief

by TexasDreamer01



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Hobbit Culture, Mentions of Violence, Other, bagginshield, the ship is actually not the important part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 01:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3230294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TexasDreamer01/pseuds/TexasDreamer01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's more than a handkerchief left at Bag End. And none so easily forgotten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice Manners for a Thief

**Author's Note:**

> So I haven't gotten to BotFA, yet, as of this fic. Which is also why I haven't extended this to that movie's plot, despite being quite thoroughly spoiled by it (I have major quibbles with it, anyway, they'll be written on later when I can).
> 
> As for Lobelia! Nicking some cutlery =/= skipping out of town singing at the top of your lungs when you own the best smial in the neighborhood. And thus, likely, have obligations. Because Hobbits are like that. I'm taking liberties with some ideas, since Hobbits in particular appear to be based off of England and (some) typical English mannerisms (I'm drawing this from both a handful of Internet skimmings and Tolkien being both a firm Catholic and Bilbo being a bit of an extension of himself); including but not limited to vicious gossiping that can lead to the ostracism of someone of the community. No matter how previously respectable. More notes on that [here](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/23353451).

It's to the crackling of the dieing fire that they hear the Hobbit whisper to himself.

"Oh."

Bombur and Ori exchange a glance, pausing in the middle of post-dinner clean up. It was the younger who broached the silence with an echo, "Oh?"

Neither were granted more than a glance from under the Halfling's fringe. Someone sucked in a quiet breath at the shocked, desolate look in their companion's eyes. Bofur, who had paused in the middle of inspecting his cuff - dinner had been quick, tonight, and maybe a little careless because of hunger with the provisions the lord of Rivendell had provided a week ago, what with the thought weighing heavily on the Company's minds at how quickly the generosity would stretch - for a splotch of stew that might have fallen there, had his brows stitched in concern at the growing disquiet surrounding the three.

Bilbo ignored it, instead catching the eyes of their fellow wizard. Gandalf raised a bushy brow in answer, shifting his pipe so that he might speak - the Hobbit beat him to it with a pinched frown, "I- I should have seen the Thain, shouldn't have I? There's... Oh, I made a mess, there's no fixing that. Do you think I have a shot at Bree?"

A raised hand from the grey-robed Company member staved off the eruption of incredulous outrage from the Dwarves who had heard the desperate inquiry. He puffed on his pipe, the exhales for once devoid of magically-shaped visions, eyes gentle as he pondered on it. The silence served to gain the attention of the rest in a slow accruement of gazes that pinned Bilbo to his spot on the log he had chosen for tonight's camp.

Gandalf seemed to deem it unecessary to let the burglar squirm for too long, for he chose that moment to speak, a gnarled hand resting the wizard's pipe on his knee, "I think..." He said slowly, nodding at Bilbo, "That what is done is done, but that, should you choose to come back after this quest and tackle this particular issue, I would be glad to provide a good friend escort, and to aid in any way said friend requires. If Bree becomes you, or even where we last boarded - Lord Elrond's hospitality is sure to withstand scrutiny, should you wish it, I will certainly argue for it - then I daresay it speaks no less of you."

His monologuing was recieved with a curt, if faintly trembling, nod. Gandalf nodded back, content to let the issue drop as quickly as it had cropped up at the acceptance, returning to his pipe.

"What issue is the Burglar needing escorting on? He has greater worries at the moment than cities we have already passed," The subject of the roughly-voiced words jerked in his seat as if struck, not daring to lift his head from where it had stayed bowed. If the speaker feigned disinterest at the abruptly submissive behavior the Hobbit was displaying, he spared equally no notice to the varying degrees of scathing looks made in his direction, "I'll not have distractions that could prove fatal to our quest. If he is choosing to leave, then do not burden the Company with indecision and make haste with it. We are not yet so far."

A brush of unusually strong wind made the campfire flicker and teeter dangerously. Thorin squared his jaw at the glare their wizard fixed upon him, both paying no heed to the crackle of unease that ran through their rapt audience.

"An issue that concerns none of you," Gandalf replies. Though the cool words, bordering on frosted, are not directed at him, Bilbo sinks further into himself. Balin shoots the Hobbit a concerned look, a hand drifting up to stroke at his white beard in consternation at the conversation - argument, more - being engaged in by his king. Nonplussed at the darkening gaze Thorin gives him, the wizard continues, "All you need to know, Thorin Oakenshield, is that our dear burglar will fulfill his contract to the letter."

The dwarf, for his part, is reluctant to let the issue die. It is Nori, well-used to unfavourable scrutiny, who breaks some of the tension, interrupting whatever Thorin might have had in mind with an easy remark to the one who inadvertently brought up the argument, "Master Baggins, what brings this on?"

It stirs their burglar, and he casts a wan smile at the thief for his efforts. Despite that, his words are carefully picked, navigating a labyrinth that the other couldn't even begin to guess why it was there in the first place, "A Baggins does not... cannot, really, leave Bag End. Not for... not for just _anything_. Hobbits- Hobbits, either," Bilbo swallows, wetting his lips and refusing to break the curious gaze of Nori. Absently, he rubs his right wrist, hand clasping over it loosely in a protective motion, "I never quite figured why, only that it was unacceptable. My father tried, showed me records of others who... who deserted the Shire, h-how _awful_ it was, but..."

Here he offered a weak shrug, "I have as much interest as all of you do in completing this quest as quickly as possible. There's only so long any Hobbit can-" Bilbo cut himself off, smiling in a self-deprecating way, coughing lightly, "Anyway. It doesn't matter. An adventure! A proper one at that, not some tween running off to Bree to gawk at some wares and Men. It's nothing any of you need to worry about, really, just some business I'll need to attend to once we deal with that dragon roosting in your home."

Nori arched but a brow at him, even as he let the excuse stave off further interrogation. His gaze swiveled to the snort Gandalf made; the other showed no signs of having done just that, merely packing more pipeweed in. The smoke creatures had returned. Various noses twitch at having a rabbit bounce itself past their faces.

Later that night, when they were bedding down, Fíli snuck to the Hobbit where he had positioned himself at the outer edge of the dogpile (which was unusual in itself, the king's nephews usually squirreled him away near them, which ended up being nearer to the center of the Dwarves), only to have his concerned, subdued chatter to be brushed off in such a manner that left him chuckling back to his own mat. It made a grin crack on Bilbo's face, which Nori took as a sign that the dour mood of earlier has been eased.

It is only when they have made it to Laketown that more of the truth reveals itself. With the Hobbit struck with a cold - one which he protested futilely was mild, even as he contradicted himself with annoyed sniffles and sneezes - and the leader of their dismal-looking Company off to Mahal knows where for a bout of utterly Thorin-ish brooding, and one following after the other like a lost puppy with scoldings and pleadings falling from his lips freely, a smattering of Dwarves decide to sneak in a chance to observe their peculiar little Hobbit.

Despite their best efforts - it roused a sigh from even Dwalin, who was constantly gazing in a thoughtful manner highly reminiscent of their absent wizard at the two - nothing came until nightfall. Everyone, for the most part (Nori proved a night owl as soon as he set foot on a proper city, rickety though it was, and Thorin, who perched himself on the stoop smoking fit to resemble a chimney), stumbled their way to bed.

Bilbo started tossing and turning not long after he nodded off in the blanketed windowsill he had claimed. It wasn't nearly the amount of restlessness that plagued the Hobbit in the first few days of their journey, no, but for the acclimated circumstances it amounted to the same. There was quiet rustling, more than one ear perking to the near-silent mutters that emanated from the sill.

"D-didn't mean it... it's their _home_ , you ca-no, nonono," There was a twist, shard of moonlight proving the others' suspicions at Bilbo's pained grimace, expressive in fear even as he slept. Dori and Balin exchanged a worried glance when the Hobbit clutched an arm close, a white-knuckled grip on his wrist. It was sure to bruise come morning, "No, please. Please, it was a contract, I- _please_ \- not, no nonon-"

A hand clapped itself crudely over the burglar's mouth, Nori's face pale as he stopped the building scream from escaping. Ori stumbled over to his brother, throwing his jacket off so it wouldn't impede him, hands trying to budge the death grip Bilbo had on his own appendage, "It's alright, shh," If the scribe's voice trembled over the assurances, none breathed a word, "You're safe, it's alright. Shh, shh, we've got you, nobody's going to hurt you. It's alright, it's safe..."

It took long, torturous moments, both brothers working tacitly to calm the fourteenth member of their Company that everyone awake was growing increasingly sure was of a night terror. By the time Bilbo finally slipped into a deeper slumber, the first fingers of growing dawn were slipping into the room. Ori and Nori managed a scant handful of hours before the resonating steps of their leader roused everyone.

Breakfast - courtesy of the Master of Laketown - brought Fíli and Kíli hustling the Hobbit elsewhere for what was most assuredly a bout of furiously whispered, concerned conversation. Whatever it was about, the boys' uncle was whisked away soon after with the diversionary help of both Balin and Dwalin.

Bilbo was pale, pinching at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt anxiously, glancing between the two Dwarves as they brought Thorin forth. Whatever rosy flush had been gained from breakfast and the previous night due to two other members of their troupe coaxing his nightmare away had vanished. It was Fíli who spoke up, tugging on the other Dwarf's sleeve, "Tell him he's welcome with us, Uncle, please. You're the only one who can convince him - me and Kíli tried, he wouldn't believe us."

Thorin raised a brow at the indignant protest the plea received, going fractionally higher at the weak, disgruntled pout, "Care to tell me what's going on?"

Innocent as the question was, Bilbo knotted his hand where it had been fiddling, looking a little lost as his jaw worked, "You... you remember that one night, after Rivendell, when I was talking to Gandalf?" The king nodded, pursing his lips into a bemused frown. It seemed to provide some sort of bolstering courage, regardless, for the Hobbit sucked in a breath to shove the next words out, "W-Well, the Shire doesn't really... approve of adventures. It's... shameful, to, um, abandon your home. Bagginses, in particular. If one were to be, er, especially scandulous, then there are, ah... consequences."

His frown turned thunderous, softening marginally when both an elbow met his side and their burglar shrunk from his gaze. Thorin sighed, dropping his hands heavily on the other's slim shoulders. It was a passing thought to be troubled at how easily he encapsulated nearly the entire breadth of those shoulders, "You have more than earned your welcome in the Company," He rumbled, serious, "Any who seek to cast you away is shameful and undeserving of your presence. Never fear to speak of what weighs heavily on your mind to any one of us, understood?"

A slow nod met him, and a thin smile twitched his lips, "Now," He drawled, leaning back on a heel. Where had his nephews gone? "What inane idea have these Shirelings of yours come up with to disturb you so?"

It drew a laugh. The Dwarf was inordinately pleased with that, no matter how brittle it might have been. Still, it faded, in that jerking half-smile he had come to know was Bilbo's hesitance, "I- I, they would. Banish me. For, for leaving as I did. Shameful, that. Only a mad Hobbit would do that. A Baggins, not presiding over Bag Shot Road! And- and-"

Thorin realized his hands were still curved over the other, his relaxing posture drawing the other to him. He didn't have time to startle at it; Bilbo curled into him as fully as propriety allowed.

"They- I would be a thief, you know," Bilbo mumured, a hand clinging to his tunic, hidden by the drape of his cloak, "'Burglar,' 'thief' - it means the same. It doesn't matter _why_ , a-and that is punishable enough. I... a brand. Branding. We- we don't lock our doors, for a reason."

His Dwarf-made little sanctuary inhaled sharply, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. It teased a little sigh from him when a hand shifted from his shoulder to the back of his head; the obscenely long length of his hair seemed a bit less uncouth at the gentle cupping of his scalp. A beat passed, lingering and shifting into something altogether different. Bilbo sighed, savouring the rare moment of feeling utterly content, lifting his head with a gentle look.

"You shall want for nothing in Erebor," Thorin spoke, voice hoarse from the... _everything_ about their Hobbit, at this very moment, somehow remaining serious and even a touch sombre, "All you need is but ask."

He almost mourned the chill of the morning air replacing Bilbo's presence, held back by the sarcastic half-smirk on the other's features, "After we get rid of the dragon, you mean?"

"Aye," Thorin breathed, smile matching his own, coloured with a faint tinge of awe that seemed to always chase Bilbo's sheer presence, "After we get rid of the dragon."


End file.
